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2013.07.18 - Mission: Genosha
Night or day, ops on the helicarrier are always happening. While there may not be as many flights coming and going as there has been, there is still more than enough going on to keep everyone busy. It shouldn't be any surprise, then, when the request for a meeting comes 'after hours'. Nor should it be any surprise that it is one of a few hotspot topics of the day that will be covered. (At least the Director gives the benefit of an agenda, even if it's in the form of, 'Get your ass here and tell me what you know about !'. For some, it's kinder. For others, less so. Now, the Director sits behind his desk, the double monitors to his computer are lit with various files, photos, satellite map views, newspaper stubs.. it's a cavalcade of information that the one-eyed man is taking in, seemingly all at once. In hand, his cigar which still has the smoking embers of a recent pull. When SHIELD's Director tells you to 'get your ass here', you do your best to chase your ass to where 'here' is, because it will leave without you. That's how Aaron felt when he got that particular summons, walking at such a hurried pace, he had been forced to tell a few passersby that he was "powerwalking" and wondering just how many people knew the truth of why he was really moving quickly. He'd been pulled out of the middle of restless sleep, and that after having spent at least two hours straight in both general exercise and self-defense sparring, so it's no surprise that he has the appearance of having dressed /quickly/, to the point he's still fixing his getup before taking the deep breath and heralding his arrival with a rap of knuckles on the entry. "Sir?" is his greeting, when he steps in, eyes concealed with those opaque lenses as always, expression as composed as one can be when they're fighting off a touch of anxiety. Despite Fury's 'get your ass up here' order, Kristin spared herself two minutes to ditch the protective lab coat she'd been wearing and wash her hands. Call it lab protocol. Her footsteps are light as she leaves the lift and makes her way to the director's office. Pausing at its threshold, she knocks, entering once she has the man's permission. She gives Ortel a light nod as she enters, but her attention focuses on the Old Man. "You called, sir?" she says with a light smile. She's not loose with protocol, by any means. But, she isn't quite as cowed by the man as some of the others. As Aaron enters the room, Fury's one good eye is locked upon the man, sizing him up, studying him. Whatever it is he's looking for, perhaps he's found because he nods his head in greeting, and permission to sit down. "Ortel. As you were. Take a seat." The good doctor isn't given quite the same appraising stare as Aaron does, but that doesn't stop him from giving her the same nod. "Doctor," is given in greeting. "I did." Now, he gestures to the other seat with his cigar hand, spinning his chair around completely so the two monitors are at his left side. "As if things couldn't be more screwed up." How's that for a prelude? "Genosha." No sense beating around the bush. "Agent Ortel," now the director's gaze moves to the man. "What do you know about it?" "It's a lovely island nation that's been taken over by a mutant dictator - if the media can be believed - and in theory it's a haven for people like me." If he feels any discomfort about implying what he is to the woman who joined him here, Ortel doesn't let it show. While he may have given Kristin a brief study when she announces her presence here, the most he had to offer her was an equivalently brief nod, the same she gave him. "I know I'm leaving out a lot, Sir, but I don't think you called us here for a history lesson on mutant affairs...?" There's a hint of question to that, the doubt that Aaron could be very wrong about Fury's intentions. There have been times he's wished he was less empathic, more telepathic, if only so he could get rid of doubts of what was (literally) on someone's mind. Ah. Genosha. Yeah. There's a pain in the ass waiting to happen. Actually. It's not waiting, is it? It's happened. Lindstrom takes a seat, but remains quiet as Ortel says what he knows. If the fact he's a mutant bothers her, it certainly doesn't show. But, then, she's the daughter of a Canadian diplomat. Can you get any more innate-soul-of-courtesy than that? "I can tell you that the power Magneto's released on that island has been on the sort of scale we use to measure atomic bombs," she notes. And it's not a bad comparison, given the EM pulses that accompany the mutant's use of his abilities. "And I suspect that the death tolls have been a lot greater than what the UN has publicly estimated. Unless I miss my guess, of course." The woman is something of an expert in volatile high energy discharges, however. And the sort of power Magneto wields does rather fall into that category. In scope, at any rate. "I can also tell you that his power is playing merry hell with our eyes in the sky. We can't get anything close enough to get a truly accurate picture of what's going on. The magnetic lensing that happens over Genosha is fierce. The sort usually reserved for high-gravity bodies." "You're right. I didn't call you for a history lesson on mutant affairs. I want to know exactly what the hell he's playing at." Fury leans forward in his seat, and takes both his people in, one after the other. Kristin's report is exactly why he'd called her in to this little meeting, and he leans back as he catches her words, now finally replacing his cigar. "My guess is, you're right. Unless he really wants to play the numbers game and pretend he did more damage than he did. But.." Turning his monitor, Nick touches the screen, which brings up the map of Genosha. An old map where the mountain still stands. There's evidence of a complex, but perhaps not quite as vast as recounted? Who is to know, however. "I need eyes on the ground. I want eyes on the ground before I get pulled forward to be asked what my response is to this." Meaning, what will the president and/or the UN Security Council say. Turning his attention to Kristin, Ortel's eyebrows twitch upwards slightly. What she has to say results in him frowning, thinking. This kind of science isn't exactly his sort of thing - no real opportunity to get started on that, after all - but he can work his way through the majority of what was thrown out. So when Fury continues, discussing exactly what is on his plate, Ortel is quiet, folding his arms, stretching his legs out in front of him, and sitting in silence. "What are those eyes going to be looking for, Sir? And is it going to just be looking, or will it be closer to snooping for anything that suggests further action beyond what she just said?" Kristin falls silent as well. She used to work field -- and still can when she needs to. But, lately, it's all about the research and the inventing. Just call her 'Q'. Because, for SHIELD, that seems to be who and what she is. But, she knows her stuff. And while she doesn't have a whole lot of additional info to go on as far as Magneto's concerned, she can extrapolate. The fact he's an Omega level mutant that can mess with the planet's EM fields certainly isn't lost on her. It makes him far more dangerous than just about any other Omega she's ever heard of. But, she's the geek at this meeting. Not the team lead. Still... "What I'd really like to see is an accurate assessment of damage and political positioning. I don't think we're going to be able to take a compound reinforced by a walking gravity lens. There are ways to counter EM fields and straighten out gravity lensing, but it's not easy to accomplish." A grimace. "Especially without using metals or magnetically responsive materials." There comes another pull on the cigar as Nick catches the request for clarification, and nods as Kristin offers her information, and thus (like a scientist), further questions. He exhales slowly, and nods just as. "I want a hint of his next move. If that means he's only reacting to what's going on under him, then I want to know what they're doing that'll pull his attention on them." The smoke rises now, as the ember burns on the end of the Cuban. "I'd like to know how much damage there's been, sure. But I'd like to find out, yes. Who he thinks he is, who the people think he is." Political positioning. "We might be able to manipulate some of that." The Director pokes at the screen once again, shutting down the picture of the mountain as it was. "I don't care about 'not easy'. I want 'we can counter EM fields'. If not now, soon." There's a slow nod, an even slower, deep breath. "Do we have anything ... specific about what he's doing already along those lines, or are we completely blind, Sir?" Much as his previous actions were almost lethargic in description, his question is quieter, more intent. "Plus, the whole place is likely swarming with... powered people, and that's just from public media. Nevermind what /we/ have. I'm guessing a census - for lack of a better word - wouldn't go amiss, either? Notorious individuals, specifically, but any faces that might ping our databases for one reason or another." Kristin's lips twist into a wry smile. But, like Scotty, she knows how to overclock the Enterprise's engines, when called for. Or pull a frickin' rabbit out of a hat, technologically speaking. So, she's unsurprised when Fury tells her, effectively, to start looking into it. Thus, sitting there silently, her arms crossing over her chest, her eyes narrow in thought. Material lists, sketch diagrams, and theoretical possibilities start flashing through her head as she considers how best to approach the problem. "I'll make it a priority, sir." "That's just it, Ortel. No. We don't. Things have been silent. We don't have eyes or ears on the ground. We're flying blind, and I don't like it." Nick spins around in his chair, looking out the window while aircraft launch and trap. "I know the place is probably filthy with powered people. Who and what they are, we won't know, thanks to the EMP field he's got going. Again, we need to do this the old fashioned way. Like we did it in my day." The chair spins around again, and he gives Aaron a long look, "You volunteering? If so, I want one more with you to act as your backup in case you're compromised." And it could happen. Kristin's own assertions that she can git 'er done is met with an approving nod. "Good," he begins, "Then Ortel, tell me who you're taking, and you'll be on the first boat out. Keep contact with the Doctor here, and she'll find something that might very well save your ass." Nick looks to Kristin now, and he leans back once again, glancing at his monitors. "I want to be able to track them. Real time, too." Oh, sure. Real time tracking... through gravity lensing and an EM field. Piece of cake. Really. Kristin suppresses a snirk. It's not good for career advancement in front of the boss. She'd ask him which he wants first -- the tracker or the lens, but she knows his answer: Both. "I'll do my best..." It's all she can do. "Do we even /have/ anyone like me on the roster, Sir? It'd be suicide otherwise, if they're a normal human, and that's just the tip of the iceberg on the mess that's probably going on there." He doesn't speak to the part about volunteering, of course. He might as well have just been told to go; it's about the same thing, in his mind. 'Strong suggestion', and all that. "The most people I've talked to, here, Sir, they'd probably be called 'target practice' if they went with me there. Plus, how many of them are even trained for getting in and out without the fun c word rearing its head?" Yeah, it's nerves creeping out, something he tries very hard to contain with steady, if slightly elevated breathing. This /is/ major, after all; not something he's used to yet. "I've got the best damn people in the world, Ortel." It's not a boast. It's a matter of fact as far as the Director is concerned. "There are people that have trained for this shit all their life. If I asked them to go in, they'd go. And I'm aware, and they're aware what they're going into." Nick leans forward again, his cigar pulled from his mouth as he leans on his forearms. "That's why I want to know everything. I want to know what Magneto had for breakfast yesterday, and if it gave him heartburn, so when he burped it wiped out the EM fields for the hour. I want to give my people the best chance." Now, he leans back and looks to the pair. "Go and do what you need to do to get ready for this. Ortel, check in and let me know who you decide on. Because you need to before you go." "Yes, Sir." It's as simple as that, even if it is an order that makes him sweat a little under the collar. He figured that he was going to be there as soon as this subject began, for the rest... He'll have to work it out later. With those words, Ortel gets up, taking the last bit as both dismissal and instruction. There's a nod for Kristin given, but this guy is going to leave just like that, if not quite 'get his ass down there yesterday'. With preparations to make and a lot of dossiers to dig through, no doubt tonight will be a sleepless affair. "Sir," Kristin replies, rising to her feet as Ortel does. Well, there it is: Marching orders. After a fashion, anyway. She waits for the younger agent to exit ahead of her, and then makes her own way back to the lab. What the hell... she's got a cot there for nights like this, anyway. Category:Log